


6:13

by AUO



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AUO/pseuds/AUO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good." C.S. Lewis</p><p>Marx is abundantly aware that he is not a good man, courtesy of Kamui.</p><p>Cross-posted from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6:13

He steps into the Northern Fortress, head held high, still bearing his title of “Conqueror”. But then she, still in her sleep shirt, is there like a spark of lightning, colliding with him despite his armor, wrapping her small arms around him. He lets out a little “oomph” and his shoulders slacken and his noble visage turns down to his little princess who… really isn’t so little anymore. And then he is not a “Conqueror” but only “Marx” prince sometimes, big brother usually, but always ready to wear another title should Kamui request him to. She nuzzles him fully against his breastplate, and he chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear absentmindedly. “Aren’t you a little old to be greeting your brother this way?” he muses, picking her up to relocate somewhere that isn’t the middle of a hallway. She wriggles in is grasp to face him, and pouts. “Noooooooo,” she says indignantly, but he expects a voice much higher and younger than the silky tone she uses now and her words sound almost like a purr to his ears. “I’ll always greet you with lots of love, since I love you lots, ri~ght?” His mouth goes dry and she shifts in his arms again to wrap her legs around him and shove her face into the crook of his neck. Her breath is unbearably hot against his skin and the fact only his paladin flap and slacks are separating his dick from her thinly pantied crotch makes him all the more feverish. He should send in a request to make those body flaps out of sturdier material.

Finally, after an agonizingly long journey, Marx finally arrives at her room. He sets her down, withholding a sigh of relief. “So, what are we to do today, little princess?”

“Cuddle.”

“What,” he says incredulously, but she has her arms folded, chin in the air, completely serious even though her pompous stance begins to falter under his gaze.

“I- well…” her entire face is turning red, all the way up to the points of her ears. A lock of hair falls over it and he resists the urge to brush it aside again. “I want to try spending time how we used to… You’re gone a lot now, and even when you are here, it’s only for training days….. I want- I want to become close with you again… I want to be able to hug you without your armor…”

It’s a dangerous request for him. Even so… How could he ever resist her?

They’re on her bed. He’d protested, but she’d insisted. “Sorry,” he murmurs into her hair. “These clothes probably smell like sweat. I was riding for a while and-”

“It’s okay,” she says gently, pressing her nose into his jacket, inhaling fully, and letting out a breath more like a trembling sigh. “It smells like you… So I love it…” She’s pressed fully against him, and even though he still wears his stiff riding jacket, it feels like he can feel everything. Each and every breath she takes, every slight shift of her body, how soft her breasts are pressed flush against him, how well they fit together… Sometimes she shifts forward, planting herself firmly on top of his groin and he chokes back a groan before scooting backwards. On and on they play that game until Marx finds himself at the other edge of the bed. She plants herself on his crotch again and he can’t back away any longer and jesus christ is she trying to give him a lap dance because it sure feels like it with the way she’s grinding down on him, and its taking everything he has not to buck his hips up to meet hers and fuck she’s throwing all her weight against him and her mouth is next to his ear and she’s making the worst possible little noises she could make in this situation and. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much for him. His elbow buckles under both their weights and his sweaty palm slides off the edge of the bed. He holds her tightly above him so he takes the brunt of the fall, lowering her gently to the floor. He sighs, half in relief half in pain as she rattles off an apology and she’s silent for a moment before he finally opens his eyes. Their eyes lock and it takes a moment to realize what position they’re in.

She’s straddling him, hovering just over his groin. And his hands…. His hands are…. His hands groping her ass fully, fingers barely curled under the elastic of her panties. He wills himself to move his damn hands already but whether because of the tumble or because his sinful fucking existence really doesn’t want to, he moves slowly, hands trailing down her firm ass down to the tops of her equally delectable thighs, fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. It’s worse like this. It’s so much worse. He feels sick and knows he needs to pry his fingers off of her. Images flash through his mind at light speed and they’re gone in an instant but still they were there. Images of Kamui straddling him just like that, breasts bare for him to fondle if he so pleased. Kamui’s face red all the way up to her ears, just like when she was embarrassed. The breathy little moans and half formed words she would make as she barely restrained herself from begging him to fuck her. His hands just as they are now, biting into her soft flesh hard enough to leave his mark. Pulling apart those thighs just a little more, so he can have a better look at her sloppy cunt as he guides her down to his cock, already wet with precum and her pussy juice, throbbing, aching to be inside her. He can imagine her face when he finally pushes in, lips forming a perfect little ‘o’ and the little whine that would escape the back of her throat, the way her back would arch making her sit taller like she was a motherfucking queen and his dick was her rightful throne, the way her breasts would bounce just so, and her toes would curl and how she would bite her lips as he strokes her clit as she rides him.

He unclasps his hands from her thighs abruptly, and stands so quickly Kamui would’ve fallen if he didn’t right her at the last moment. She’s looking at him with pleading eyes as if she’s the one that’s done something wrong and he tries to explain but all that’s coming out is “We can’t,” over and over again. She doesn’t know how he’s wronged her and he can feel his heart cracking. She probably thinks his groping was an accident - which it was - but nonetheless an accident he’d be lying if he said he didn’t desperately want. She catches his hand as he tries to flee and he knows he shouldn’t look because he knows exactly the expression she’ll have on and he won’t be able to resist her. Whatever she says, he won’t be able to resist. “Please,” she says, voice high with fear and he hates that he’s the one that did this. “I don’t understand… I just… Want to be with you.” And he wants to tell her how she shouldn’t, about what a filthy sinful man he is but how could he? How could he tell her such a thing? Would she believe him if he told her that? Or would he have to fess up to every gory detail he’s imagined right up to all the ways he’d slam her in the cunt for her to believe him? He couldn’t do it. Saying it aloud was impossible. It would make it real. And he doesn’t want it to be real. So instead he mumbles out an excuse - a meeting with Gunther about strategy. She seems perplexed for a moment, and then she beams and his heart breaks. “Afterward then?” she asks. “Afterward you’ll snuggle me some more? I promise I won’t be so excitable!”

“I don’t think we should-” A furrowed brow. Shit. “I- Definitely, if you’re still awake after I train a bit.”

She launches herself into his chest again, thanking him the whole time. His stomach churns. She lets go and bounces up to kiss him. The kiss misses it’s intended mark - probably his cheek - and instead lands in all its sloppy glory full against his mouth. Even so she runs off like it was nothing to her.

He wishes it were nothing. To him, it is everything.

He truly is a weak man.


End file.
